


Destiny is Overrated

by TheAsexualofSpades



Series: Quarantine Drabbles [11]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur Knows About Morgana's Magic (Merlin), Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Kilgharrah is a dick, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Morgana's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Mutual Pining, thank god for Morgana honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23479426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades
Summary: What if Merlin actually went: sod this destiny, I have a friend I can help, let's do that instead.As it turns out, several things become much easier.
Relationships: Elyan & Gwen (Merlin), Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen & Morgana (Merlin), Merlin & Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Quarantine Drabbles [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677655
Comments: 29
Kudos: 1201
Collections: merlin fics i read and haven't been the same since





	Destiny is Overrated

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea why these Merlin drabbles get away from me so quickly. The plot bunnies just come and dash. Anyway, Morgana deserved better and I'll die on this hill too.

Fandom: Merlin (BBC)

Prompt: “How about a kiss?”

* * *

As it turns out, listening to a dragon and Gaius ramble on about destiny for hours and hours on end has a way of trying one’s patience. Merlin doesn’t know whether or not it’s true, and to be honest, it’s getting to the point where he’s not sure he cares.

He’s not willing to stake his entire existence on the word of a dragon whose hatred for Uther is only matched by his inability to give a clear answer. He’s not.

So when they figure out Morgana has magic and Kilgharrah’s immediate reaction is to never let her know the truth, that she will be his downfall or his darkness or whatever overdramatic term he chose to use, Merlin’s reaction is very much akin to telling the dragon to fuck off. Of course, he didn’t _actually_ tell the creature to go fuck itself, but he came close.

Quite close.

Uther has the castle of high alert, guards stationed outside Morgana’s door day and night, Gwen bustling about trying to keep her lady’s spirits up. Merlin’s heard that she and Elyan are conspiring to get Morgana outside somewhere she can start training with her sword again, keep her mind off things. It’s not a bad idea. Merlin’s got one too.

This one’s risky. Gaius doesn’t want him to do it either, but he’s getting weary of the excuse that keeping information from someone is to protect them.

He slips past the guards one night, under the pretense of giving Morgana the sleeping draught. She sits on the edge of her bed, worrying the end of her black curls with one hand and a look of intense concentration on her face. She jerks when the door closes.

“Merlin!” Morgana relaxes at the sight of him. “You scared me half to death!”

“Sorry,” he says as he places the potion on her table, “didn’t mean to. Are you, um, doing okay?”

“Well, I’m not thrilled with the constant presence of Uther’s guards outside my door,” Morgana sniffs, “but other than that, yes, I’m…”

Merlin frowns when she trails off. He waits by the table, watching as Morgana glances at the candle by her window.

“…the fire started to grow, Merlin,” she mutters, hands stilling in her hair, “it grew and grew and then the window blew _out._ It…it was me, wasn’t it?”

_Yes, Morgana, but it’s alright—_

She shakes herself, plastering that fake smile over her features and tittering that horrible _horrible_ court laugh she has.

“I’m being silly, of course, that’s ridiculous, of course, it was the wind, I couldn’t possibly have done it.” Her laughter takes on a note of hysteria. “I can’t possibly have _magic._ ”

And you know what, Merlin’s done. Let them blather on about destiny, let them warn him of the dangers of helping Morgana, let them tell him he’s an idiot.

Because if helping someone who’s terribly frightened makes him an idiot, he’d hate to see what a genius it.

Merlin walks over to the candle, angling himself towards Morgana so she can see his eyes. Her laughter has trailed off, now she just looks confused at what he’s doing.

He reaches towards the candle.

Murmurs the spell.

Watches the flame grow into a dragon that flaps its wings around the edge of the candle once, twice, three times before disappearing.

Waits.

Morgana could call for the guards, she could scream, she could do any number of things to get him killed this instant.

Morgana could reach for the dagger Gwen told him she keeps tucked in her drawer.

Morgana could do a lot of things right now.

She doesn’t do any of those.

“You…you have…you have magic?”

He nods, finally looking away from the candle. Morgana sits with her hands clutched near the neckline of her nightdress, mouth agape, eyes wide.

“I was born with it,” he explains, moving away from the candle but staying out of reach.

“That’s…is that what’s happened to me?”

“I think so.”

“Is it…am I…” She falters. Her hands tangle in the sheets. “I’m not evil, am I?”

“No, no Morgana,” Merlin says in a rush, “magic isn’t inherently good or evil. It’s a tool, just a tool, it’s up to the wielder to decide how to use it.”

“…you can use a knife to spread butter or take a life,” Morgana mutters and yeah, that’s a better analogy than whatever he’s tried to come up with in the past, “that makes sense.”

“I don’t think you’re evil, Morgana,” Merlin continues, seeing her hesitation, “there’s _good_ in you. If we can teach you how to _use_ your magic for good and not for evil, you won’t ever be.”

“…I think I’d like that.”

That’s how it started. Of course, Gaius found out the next morning because Morgana’s sleeping potion went undrunk that night and, well, Gaius was always able to put two and two together where it concerns magic and Merlin. But since Morgana’s nightmares began to wane shortly thereafter, there wasn’t much he could do lest Uther got suspiscious.

When it had been long enough that the guards were no longer on a constant vigil outside Morgana’s door, she and Merlin began riding out to practice magic in the wide open fields far away from the prying eyes of Camelot. Merlin wonders if she showed this much zeal when learning swordplay; she picks up the work like pulling on a new cloak, adding her own special twists to the spells to make them flourish in a way he’s never seen before.

She’s a natural.

Of course, all of this wonderful progress comes at a price.

“Merlin!”

“There is a limit to how fast I can get you into your armor without tearing your limbs off, you clot pole,” Merlin mutters as Arthur turns around. He's been more irritable lately, demanding Merlin's presence and insisting he remain at his side at all times. 

“I could get myself into this armor faster than you can today.”

“Well, then you’re welcome to do it yourself.”

He dodges a cuff Arthur aims at the side of his head.

“Maybe if you spent less time sitting around on your little bottom you’d be more efficient.” Arthur grabs his helmet from the table. “Now, before I’m back you need to clean my room, mend my tunic, and—“

“I can’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“Morgana’s already asked me to—“

“Well, you’re my servant, not Morgana’s.” Arthur isn’t quite pouting but it’s damn near close. “So my orders get priority.”

“Not when hers have already been approved by the King, they don’t.”

Arthur glares at him. “Morgana has _her own servant,_ what on earth’s she need you for?”

“Maybe she’s learned to appreciate my work ethic.”

“Maybe she’s using you as her jester.”

“Nah, if she wanted to laugh at someone I’m sure she’d spend more time with you.”

Arthur’s shouts chase him out the door and around the corridor where he runs smack into Gwen.

“I’m sorry!”

“Don’t worry, Merlin, I’m alright,” Gwen smiles, “are you almost ready? Morgana wants to ride soon and Elyan’s almost here.”

Right. That was today.

Merlin didn’t blame Morgana for wanting to share this secret with someone who wasn’t him, and he certainly didn’t blame her for wanting it to be Gwen. The two of them were family, as much as anyone could be, and Gwen was by far more receptive to new things than Arthur or, magic forbid, Uther. Elyan was one of the people Merlin trusted most outside of Gaius, his mother, Gwen, or even Morgana, so this should go fine.

As it turns out, the first thing Gwen does is say: “Finally. I was wondering when the two of you were going to say something.”

“How long have you known?” Morgana doesn’t seem bothered, making sure her mail shirt is on properly.

“About a month now.” Gwen shrugs. “My family still practices the Old Religion, I know the signs.”

“Of magic?”

“Of belief.”

Merlin glances at Elyan who is still a knight of Camelot. Elyan shrugs. “Never bought that rubbish that all sorcerers are evil. And you two most certainly aren’t.”

“Then we're all in agreement,” Morgana declares regally. “Now, get over here, Elyan, I’ve not had a chance to properly spar with someone in ages.”

The afternoon proceeds with the pairs trading off; Merlin and Gwen watch the two of them spar, then the siblings watch the sorcerer and sorceress practice their magic. There’s an ease to the air, plenty of friendly jibes and healthy competition flying back and forth, somewhere to breathe. It’s the most relaxed Merlin’s felt in ages.

Then Uther tries to impose a new law that would effectively cut the people of Camelot’s stores in half.

The first person to speak out against him is Morgana, unsurprisingly, but the next is Arthur. Merlin and Gwen watch from the sidelines as the Pendragons confront Uther with a _wall_ of reasons not to impose this new legislation, citing everything from how the people are not disposable tools to unfair workloads placed on the guards to the fact that—Merlin has to stop himself from beaming with pride when Arthur says this—they are just as much servants to the people of Camelot as the people are theirs.

Uther doesn’t end up passing the law and Merlin bustles after Arthur to his chambers, almost bouncing off the walls.

“That was bloody _brilliant,_ ” he crows, helping Arthur get out of his court clothes and settling the prince in for dinner, “you were amazing.”

“Alright,” Arthur waves eventually, “enough. It wasn’t that much.”

“Wasn’t that—Arthur, you stood up to your father in front of the whole court for the good of the people. If they see you do that more often they’ll back you in a way they’ve never backed your father.”

“My father is a good king,” Arthur says, voice lowered, “he just…sometimes he forgets that there’s a point to being king.”

Yeah, see this part, this part of the destiny crap Merlin buys. Arthur’s been doing better, hasn’t he? He’s stopped picking on every single thing for a fight, started thinking more considerately about the actions he shows to the people, and oh yeah, _standing up to his father when he’s being an arse._

“Anyway,” Arthur says mulishly, “Morgana should get the lion’s share of the credit. She started it.”

“But you backed her up. Being the leader doesn’t mean you’ve got to have all the ideas yourself.”

Arthur looks up at him strangely. “What would you know about being a leader?”

Merlin’s mouth makes shapes but nothing comes out. “…nothing, I suppose.”

“Mm.” Arthur glances towards the door when it begins to open. “As it turns out, you’re not entirely wrong.”

“Oh, is Merlin joining us tonight?” Morgana slips through, looking regal as ever.

“Wait, what?”

“I do talk to Morgana,” Arthur mumbles, shooing Merlin to pour her a goblet of ale, “and I _do_ know how to listen, despite whatever you believe.”

“How—how long have you two been doing this?”

“About as long as _you’ve_ been sneaking off to do her bidding instead of your chores.”

So as long as Merlin’s revealed his magic to Morgana. Bollocks.

“So, um, what do you talk about?”

“Oh, this and that,” Morgana says easily, lifting up the goblet, “crops, the people, law, how much Uther’s planning on spending on the next festival…”

She takes a sip, eyes glinting mischievously over the rim. “You.”

“M-me?”

“Of course, you,” Morgana smirks. “You’re very interesting, Merlin.”

“He’s not _that_ interesting,” Arthur snarks from the other side of the table, “he can’t even figure out how to polish a boot on both sides.”

“Mm, but he is pretty.”

Arthur chokes on his next sip and Merlin’s ears are bright red.

“Um, I’m gonna—“

“You should—“

“—Gaius probably—“

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Good-goodnight, sire.”

“Goodnight Merlin.”

“Night, Morgana.”

“And a very good night to you too.”

Merlin _runs._ He can hear Morgana snickering all the way to Gaius’ chambers. Gaius must be out delivering something because the rooms are empty. Great. Now he can go all the way into his room and close the door and flop on the bed and _why did Morgana have to say that?_

He knows that magic is something that Morgana feels strongly about and if their performance today was any indication she and Arthur have been talking about legal things, coming to conclusions about how they feel regarding the laws of Camelot. It comes as no surprise that magic would be included but _wasn’t Morgana enough?_ She has magic, she’s Uther’s favorite, and she’s well-regarded in the eyes of the court. If there’s any one person to change the minds of Camelot, it’s her.

Why are they talking about Merlin? Is it because he’s a servant and he has more ‘reason’ to seek vengeance against the crown for whatever reason? Is it that he hasn’t yet, despite being Arthur’s servant, in prime position to do any number of things?

Because he wouldn’t, he’s not like that. Arthur’s not like that. He’s a prat, but he’s better than Uther. Arthur at least understands that power isn’t entirely self-serving, that the authority the crown wields has to come from at least _some_ consent from the governed. Arthur knows that the head that has to bear the crown has to _earn_ it in some way, that he’s not someone that can get away with anything. Arthur’s better than Uther, not that it’s hard.

Arthur at least can listen when his head isn’t as big as his waist.

So why in _blazes_ are they talking about Merlin and why in _blazes_ did Morgana say he was pretty?

He’s not terribly well built, nor is he terribly strong. He can’t fight with a sword to save his life, he’s far too pale, he’s not blond, and magic knows he isn’t in the public eye enough to be considered attractive.

He pauses in his pacing, having almost worn a hole in the floorboards. Wait, what is he basing this on? Why is he saying he _isn’t_ these things, as if these things make someone attractive, who could possibly—

No.

No no no no _absolutely not._

Merlin throws himself down on the bed and covers his face with a pillow. Maybe he can die of embarrassment here and then he won’t have to think about this anymore.

He is _not_ basing what he thinks is attractive off of Arthur fucking Pendragon.

He’s _not._

He is not thinking about how Arthur looks in the morning when he goes in to wake him up, still asleep against the pillows. He’s not thinking about how Arthur looks when he’s training in the courtyard, sword clanging against the others. He’s not thinking about how Arthur looked in the courtroom today, head held high, gaze fixed on Uther, king in everything but name.

_Fuck._

He’s slipped up a few times out loud, he’s sure of it. And what with the amount of time he’s spent around Morgana or Gwen recently, he’s sure they’ve heard at least one of them.

_Fuck._

No wonder Arthur choked on his ale tonight, he’s probably seen the evenings laughing at Morgana’s regaling of this stupid servant, pining after his master. Clumsy, silly, gangly Merlin. Arthur’s not cruel enough to send him away, but he’s probably not past teasing Merlin mercilessly about it like he’s some blushing maiden.

As long as he doesn’t send him away, then.

At this point, Merlin’s gonna say he’d prefer if Morgana told him about the magic, at least then he wouldn’t die of embarrassment.

He’s earned the right to be a little overdramatic. After he stopped going to Kilgharrah his life has been lacking a little drama.

The trip to Arthur’s chambers the next morning is as painless as it probably would be. He gets Arthur dressed and fed and dashes to the stables. Morgana gives him a strange look when he’s urging his horse to a canter far earlier than normal but he passes it off as excitement. They dismount and Merlin’s all ready to start with the simple stuff they’ve been doing regularly but Morgana stops him.

“Remember how you said there’s a spell to see the character of our magic?”

He nods. “It’s not much use as a spell, more of a…display than anything else.” He flaps a hand dismissively. “Just a bunch of lights or colors.”

“But maybe it would help me understand how my magic works,” Morgana pushes, “to see what I looked like through it.”

Merlin squints. Morgana looks innocent but she’s up to something. She’s been all about practicality, this is just a glamor if that. He can’t figure out what, though, and there’s not much at stake out here.

“Alright. You can go first.”

“Me? But I don’t know the spell.”

“It’s just an incantation and a push, then it’ll manifest and you can control it until it goes away.”

“Maybe you should go first to show me.”

Merlin smiles. “No deal. Here—“ he pushes the page of the book into her hand— “that’s the spell. I’ll just stand over here while you do that.”

Morgana huffs. After she consults the page. Merlin’s too far away to hear the incantation but he sees the brilliant tendrils of light spilling out from Morgana’s hands, weaving into vast networks of rich purple and blue threads. Morgana waves her hands back and forth and the magic follows, condensing around her into a rich gown with sweeping folds and layers of fabric. It settles around her like a second skin, following her movements and sending energy rippling through the air.

“You look magnificent,” Merlin breathes, heart in his throat.

“I do, don’t I,” Morgana muses, a little breathless, “this is…wow.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty impressive. But it’s not, you know, _useful._ ”

“I don’t know, it might work to impress some court official.”

“ _Some court official—_ Morgana, you would sweep the world off its feet like that.”

“Flattery will not get you out of doing this too.” Morgana thrusts the page back at him as her magic fizzles away. “Come on, I want to see what kind of dress you’ll be wearing.”

“Mine probably won’t be a dress,” he mumbles, taking the page.

“Well then let’s see.”

In all honesty, Merlin’s nervous; he’s never done this spell before, he’s always known his magic is just…part of him. He doesn’t know what this spell will do with that.

Only one way to find out.

The spell draws magic from inside his veins, spilling it into the air, crystalizing into fine lines. Unlike Morgana, his come straight from his chest, sending the whole area into a rich, golden glow. The tendrils aren’t thin and delicate like Morgana’s they’re thick, strong. Powerful.

Golden light beams out from him, reaching out in all directions, weaving into the very ground, throughout the entire field. Every leaf gleams like the sun is beaming directly onto it, each blade of grass singing in the magical aura. As they reach away the beams begin to split, turning into little butterflies, dragons, even knights on horseback, sweeping in elegant circles around the field.

Merlin turns the field into a magical paradise.

After what feels like an eternity but is probably only a few minutes, the light fades, everything but one last butterfly perched on Morgana’s finger dissolving into nothing.

“Wow…” Morgana watches the butterfly fly back towards Merlin. “That was…”

“A lot.”

“Yes, that’s one word for it.” Morgana looks around. “Well, I’ve had enough for today.”

“What? We’ve barely done anything.”

“And yet I’m satisfied.”

“You are definitely up to something.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Morgana declares, swinging herself back onto her horse. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Bemused, Merlin follows Morgana back to Camelot, finishing his chores for Gaius during the day and heading up to Arthur’s to bring him dinner in the evening. There are voices behind the door so he waits. Then he hears that it’s Morgana and he slips closer.

“…told you that you wouldn’t regret it.”

“That was…the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. It was so…golden.”

“As always, you are a master of words.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to say?” There’s a scuff of a chair. “That it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and that it single-handedly changed my mind about magic?”

Wait, what?

“Well, it’s a start. I think part of it might be who it was too, hmm?”

“Morgana when you told me to follow you and Merlin today I expected _you_ to show me your magic, not to show me that-that…”

“That your servant is the most powerful sorcerer you’ve ever seen and that his magic is everything Uther says it can’t be? Or that it helped you realize you’re terribly in love with him?”

“…no…”

“Well, at least now you won’t have to tell him.”

“What?”

“Well—“

Merlin stumbles, Morgana having swung the door open.

“He’s not as stealthy as he thinks he is.”

Merlin can’t do anything but meekly hold up the tray. “…dinner?”

“None for me, thank you,” Morgana says, sweeping out the door, “I think you two have a lot to talk about.”

The door clangs shut and both of them resolutely look at the floor.

“You have magic,” Arthur says finally.

“I have magic.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“One day.”

Arthur stands up and goes to the window. Now that his gaze isn’t going to land anywhere near Merlin, he can look up at the prince. Arthur’s shoulders are tense but at least he’s not angry?

“You know I have magic.”

“I know.”

“…you love me.”

“ _You_ were spying on me.”

_“You’re_ one to talk.”

Arthur turns around and the intensity of his gaze is enough to make Merlin’s back hit the door. Neither of them moves.

“Put that tray down, Merlin,” Arthur huffs, waving at the table, “you look ridiculous.”

Merlin manages to get to the table, barely. When he looks up he’s so close to Arthur it scares him.

“Morgana wasn’t wrong,” Arthur murmurs, “and, um, your magic is beautiful.”

Merlin swallows. “…thanks.”

Arthur nods sharply but he looks so resigned that Merlin can’t stop himself from blurting out: “I love you too.”

“…you do?”

Merlin frowns. “You can’t tell me Morgana didn’t tell you.”

“No, she did, I just…” Arthur scratches his head, averting his gaze, “…didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Well, um, it’s true.”

“Right.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I think we’re going about this wrong.”

“Yes, me too.”

Another moment of silence.

“How about a kiss?”

Arthur blinks. “Come here, then.”

Yeah, that’s better. They’ll figure everything else out later.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on tumblr while we're all in quarantine. 
> 
> https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/


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